


The Dream

by mat



Category: Seinfeld
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other, Post-Canon, absurdist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mat/pseuds/mat
Summary: An absurdist look at Jerry's life and how success has changed it.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Jerry Seinfeld : Jerry Seinfeld  
Georges Constance : Donovan Scott  
Elaine Benz : TBA  
New Man : John Belushi  
St. Augustine III : Jennifer Connelly  
Gott Himself : Chris Raab  
Amanda Seyfried : James Doe

The story starts on the ceiling. I sit and look out over the horizon, seeing all the things will be. There's nothing out there. Each point in space blinks out as my eyes close automatically. The process keeps my eyeballs damp. I'd long left my Manhattan apartment for my success-led stardom. I tried. Now I drive fancy cars, date young women. This is where the story stars.

Georges buzzes up and I let him in. He calls me on the phone, explaining the meeting thousands of times. I listen, but he doesn't.  
"Do you know how much this stinks?"  
"I know, I know!"  
"It really stinks!"  
"I know, I know!"  
His problem is he never got over killing his parents. Nobody wants to go through that, but we all have to at some point. He just won't let it go.  
"You picked them up, put them in a hole in the ground and buried them."  
"I know, I know!"  
"It don't get much simplah than that!"  
"I know, I know!"  
See? He just won't do it. It's like a disease in his brain.  
"I gotta leave for a date. You look at this thing."  
And so I left. Didn't make it a big deal or nothin', just did it. I'm a cool guy, I like the young girls. He's the one who killed his parents, not me. And what about Elaine, the mother? You think she buys me cars for the fun of it? I can buy my own cars, she doesn't need to. I think she just does it for the fun of it. Anyway, what's this date called, again? St. Augustine III? Geez, what a trip.

"Good to meet you."  
"Good to meet you."  
"You're very pretty."  
"As are you."

Another successful date. Maaaaaaaaaan~ do I love young ladies! Whooooooeee!  
"Jerry..."  
"New Man!" I knew New Man, man. I knew him and I didn't do a thing about it. Now he's gone.  
"What do you want, New Man?"  
"Jerry, we need to cut a deal. The apartment next to mine was taken by a beautiful woman and you've gotta date her, you've just gotta, Jerry!"  
"Okay, New Man, I'll do it. Only just because I nue you."  
"Thank you, Jerry! Thank you so much! I kiss your knee!"  
"Enough, Knee Man! Gettouttahere!!!"  
"Okay, Jerry, I'm goin', I'm goin'!"  
"You're goin', all right..."

So I go and knock on this girl's door, right? And she opens it up and standing there in the doorway is Gott Himself. I'm talkin' real beauty here.  
"So what did you do, Jerry?"  
What could I do? I said hello.  
"You said hello?"  
I said hello, didn't I?  
"Hello."  
"Hello, who are you?"  
"I'm Jerry Seinfeld, who the hell are you?"  
"I just moved in next door. My name's Amanda."  
"Amanda?"  
"Yeah, I'm Amanda."  
"Well you're not really my type, but I'll give it a shot. Sure, why not?"  
"A shot?"  
"A shott? Sure, why not?"

Amanda and Jerry, me, went to an Italian restaurant for their, our, first date.  
"Bongiournio!"  
"Mama mia, bellisimma!"  
It was real authentic.  
"Ma occasionalmente dimostra una sorprendente conoscenza dell'animo umano."  
"Il figlio li ritiene i colpevoli della sua incapacità di riuscire in alcunché nella vita."  
We could've carried on all night. What a carry on! We were younger then.  
"Adios!"  
"Buena suerte!"  
And they're off! Seinfeld running hard on the inside line, Seyfried taking on a nasty bit of business of her own, they're passing and weaving and ducking and one moment takes over the other, three, two, one, it's outta there! This is it, folks. Take your moment, you've earned it. Each second you spend living is another you've stolen from Gott Himself and don't you let them all forget it.

So I call St. Augustine III, Augie. I call up Augie and I say to her it can't work out, it isn't working out and we have to stop seeing each other. Of course, Amanda's on the other end of the line and she says to me a bunch of stuff about how it's been nice, but it can't work out, it isn't working out and we have to stop seeing each other. Do you know how it feels when Gott Himself abandons you? I sit and rest my head, firmly on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm flying VFR, head in the clouds, manage to dock at a CVS on Wilshire. Meet a little lady named Jessica. She carries me back to her place and lays me out. Each step she takes is a real pounding. But we don't give up. Each step she takes is a real pounding. It goes on like this. I'm Jessica's desiccant. Each step I take is a real pounding. I'm sucking the life out of her. This needs to end, but we don't give up. I'm taking steps to change, but each step I take is a real pounding. Appeal rounding. A rounding error in the great calculation of life. A misstake. A misstep. Each misstep I take is really pounding that last nail in the coffin. You know how it feels. You can take a real pounding. You can, but eventually the coffin gets too much and you can no longer breathe. Jessica's standing outside, head in the clouds. She doesn't know what's going on, how could she? She doesn't know how it feels. She's oblivious. She's oblivion. She really wipes me out. That's the Simpsons for you. Jessica Simpson. Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie and Jessica. Products of the 90s, products of their time. Now they're out in the open, in the real world, and they don't know how to survive because they were never meant for it. They're languishing, decaying, desiccating, desecrating. The new can't replace the old, but boy does it try. That's what everyone expects it to do. If you can't live up to the past, you better die and move out of the way. The pounding steps of time won't move out of the way, so you'd better move out of the way because they're not going to move out of the way. You, me. If we're a product of the 90s, we'd better move out of the way. There's no way to survive in this world. This is no way to live. The 90s are over, man. Don't have a cow, man. Don't be a new, man. You'll never survive. When the new man gets stepped on by the pounding of progress, don't be surprised when you're a product of the 90s and the 90s are over. There's no telling when it might happen, too. There's no telling when the 90s might be over. It goes on like this. Head in the clouds, flying VFR. No telling.


End file.
